


A Piece of Work is Man

by sasha_b



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kiss amidst violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of Work is Man

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: _There's some kind of serious combat situation going on. One of the guys is going to fight and quite possibly to die. The other is remaining behind, due to other Important Tasks. And they kiss (make love?) absolutely frantically before parting._
> 
>  _Up to you whether this is AU, futurefic, post-divorce, no divorce, whatever. I just want a really desperate, passionate moment between them when they think it might be the last._

Watching the others freeze in mid motion is jarring, but Erik is used to strangeness when Charles is around.

He meets the other man toe to toe; Charles frowning at Erik’s manipulation of his body, but Charles still acts as he always did, despite being the force behind everyone else’s statue-like apprehension, despite being lifted out of his chair by Erik, being made to float even with Erik’s face.

Even the wind seems stilled, although Erik knows that’s just an illusion. Almost as believable as the look in Charles’ bright blue eyes.

Planes stilled in midair, birds caught in midflight, and how odd to see Wolverine in mid-leap – and Charles grasps Erik’s chin, long fingers bruising, the blood that dots them red on white flesh, distracting. Charles blinks, slowly, as though he’s in the process of slowly freezing over as well, and Erik huffs an angry breath as Charles pulls at his chin, harder, perhaps his retribution for being controlled, for being lifted. The two men are the only things in motion on the battlefield, full of mutants and the humans that have come to try and stop them.

“Fools,” Erik murmurs aloud, but suddenly, unexpectedly and awkwardly and _be the better man, Erik, there is so much more to you than pain and anger_ Charles’ lips are catching his for some reason he’s not aware of, not yet, not even close to imagining why this is happening, but there is nothing in the wide world that matters save this and the other man’s taste, so long denied yet never forgotten.

The sun bakes down on Erik’s head, the helmet amplifying the heat, and he slowly raises his left hand, maneuvering the thing off with a thought and attempts to not crush Charles as he snatches at the other man’s shoulders, Erik’s cape wrapping with the nonexistent wind around their legs, pulling them closer.

Tiny insignificant things flutter through his mind, when he should be paying attention to the kiss he only dreams about nowdays. Tiny things, like how his back aches and how he’s exhausted all the time, nightmares plaguing him, how Mystique cries sometimes when she thinks no one can hear her, how Emma is looking more and more dissatisfied, how he can only think of the few weeks he spent at the mansion with Charles and the children when he wants to _calm. Your mind!_

Charles makes a sound and Erik opens his eyes, realizing he’s been gripping hard enough to hurt, his power holding Charles up still. Their lips separate with a popping sound and Erik sighs, this time the murmur the sound of _Charles_ , even still. He lets go his iron hold and still the other man hovers, the mutants and humans and vehicles around them still frozen in time, a gift Charles seems to have developed in the past few years. The slow breeze ruffles their hair and Erik, reluctant to end this charade, lets Charles hang where he is, if only for a moment.

“Erik,” Charles says.

It rumbles through Erik’s gut like fire blossoming in a dry field, torched and crisp and burned to a cinder. He raises a gloved hand and touches his lips. A memory only, now.

“Let them go,” he answers, and slides the helmet back on, lowering Charles to his chair. He turns his back and the sun shines directly on his face, forcing him to squint his eyes. They ache and his head throbs with them.

Action begins around them as though it had never stopped. Wolverine misses his target – Magneto, ostensibly – and looks around in confusion. He never misses.

Rising into the air with a simple idea, Erik puts distance between himself and Charles and the battle that is futilely raging behind him. He can tell Charles has left the field as well by the sounds of the X-Men’s shouts. He gives a single command and the Brotherhood is with him, abandoning their quest and following their leader without question.

Erik can feel Charles writhing in his stomach, taking up residence in his brain, his mouth imprinted forever on Erik’s. He shouts one order and they disappear together, Azazel taking them to their headquarters far from the field where they attempted yet another fight – he drops Mystique and Emma’s hands the moment they arrive.

Shutting the door to his rooms behind him, he removes the helmet and braces himself against the wall, stilling the shaking of his hands.

 _This is what they want, us turning on each other._

 _I want you by my side. We want the same thing._

Drawing back a fist, Erik smashes the wall with it, the wood cracking under the strain. The kiss – the last one, he’s sure – slams into his brain and he shuts his eyes and allows his fingers to shake this time.


End file.
